Delicate Intentions
by thosepaperroses
Summary: Blaine's life wasn't supposed to be this way: he's stuck in Lima with a loveless marriage and writer's block. When there's a serial killer in town, Blaine is scared yet intrigued. When the two of them accidentally meet, Kurt has to ensure Blaine doesn't tell anyone about him. They hang out so he can keep an eye on him, but can they keep their relationship to just acquaintances?
1. The Meeting

"Blaine!," Rachel yelled. "Earth to Blaine!"

Blaine snapped out of his trance. He had been staring at the TV, where the local news program was discussing a serial killer on the loose, suspected to be in Lima. Blaine had heard plenty of rumors about him, from the mailman to the supermarket cashier to the dentist. Everyone was talking about him and everything he heard was different: the killer was a cannibal. His face was horribly disfigured. He went crazy after his wife died. He skinned women alive and was making a dress out of them.

Blaine suspected that last one was inspired by The Silence of the Lambs. Nevertheless, everyone seemed obsessed with him. And now he was getting sucked in too, apparently.

"Yes, Rachel?", he said, turning around in his chair to look at her. She had on a gray sweater and a blue skirt, one hand on her hip. He must have somehow screwed up. Again.

"Stop watching that already," Rachel said, grabbing the remote and clicking it off. "I'm sick of everyone talking about that guy. And you should get to work, anyways."

Work. Yet another thing that they argued about.

Blaine had quit his job as a banker about four months ago. He hated it anyways- he despised the strictness and the tiresome dullness of it all. Blaine knew, ever since he was just a young kid, that his true calling was to become a performer. He dreamed of being a star on Broadway, dazzling and bringing joy to people every night. But he knew Rachel would never let him do it. It was too risky, she would argue, and he probably was going to turn them both broke and homeless.

A long time ago, Rachel also wanted to be a Broadway star. After all, their shared passion was what drew them together. But now, she dismissed his ambitions as a silly fantasy. He knew she wanted him to grow up. Get a real job. Just like she did.

So Blaine settled for another creative outlet- writing. He had somehow managed to convince Rachel not to worry. Since he worked at home, he'd be able to take care of the housework and the cooking. He promised her that he would get something published soon and he'd be able to provide for them.

So far, nothing.

* * *

Blaine turned the TV back on soon after Rachel left. It wasn't like he was procrastinating writing. Not at all. As a writer, it was important for Blaine to observe people. And this killer seemed interesting enough.

A blurry picture was shown of him along with a description. Height: 5'10". Weight: 170 lbs. Race: White. Sex: Male. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Green.

Accused of killing at least two dozen people.

Even though the picture was a bit grainy, Blaine could see that his eyes weren't just a flat green- they were a beautiful multi-dimensional color with flecks of gold. Maybe they were glasz? Blaine wasn't completely sure what that meant, but he couldn't quite figure out any other words for it. It was nothing like he had ever seen before- he was jealous his own eyes weren't that color.

Blaine suddenly realized that he just thought that he thought a murderer was beautiful and internally slapped himself. What was wrong with him? He really needed to stop watching so much TV. Or at least watch something other than the news.

A female broadcaster talked about how he was suspected of killing six men last week. The only connection between them was that they had all graduated from McKinley High School. Until then, she urged, everyone should be home before 10 pm and try not to go anywhere alone. It was especially important that McKinley high school graduates be careful. After all, he police suspected that the killer was still somewhere in Ohio.

Blaine felt like he should be scared of this murderer, running around and killing people, so close to him. And he did, but he also felt excited. He knew he shouldn't, but this was Lima. _Nothing_ happened here. At this point, he welcomed any change.

* * *

Two hours had passed before Blaine finally shut off the TV. The program had changed from the news to some Spanish soap opera and he had enough to watching bad actors screech at each other. Especially when he had no idea what they were even saying.

He got up from the couch and stretched. He should probably start writing now. In fact, he should have started writing this morning. But Blaine figured that being at home was way too distracting. He needed to go somewhere quiet, with just him and his laptop, so he could properly work.

Blaine decided to go to the Lima Bean. He got into his car and began to drive. He knew that it was mostly just because he craved coffee, but he figured he might as well as get some work done while he was there. Besides, it was good to get out of the house. Maybe observing some of the coffee shop customers would inspire him and cure his writer's block.

Blaine sighed, turning the steering wheel. Writer's block. When he told Rachel about it, she simply sighed. He could tell she predicted something like this would happen.

That was the last time he mentioned it. Now, whenever she asked how his writing was coming along, he always told her everything was going great, he was almost done, just a couple of more days.

Blaine arrived at the Lima Bean and parked near the front. He walked inside, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Blaine ordered a medium drip and waited it for to come before sitting at a small table next to the window. He surveyed the others in the shop. It was relatively empty right now, but that might have just been because of the paranoia running through the town. Out of the people there, however, he couldn't spot anyone who looked particularly compelling.

He gave up on finding inspiration. Blaine didn't need it anyways- all he needed to write was his brain and his laptop. He opened his computer and pulled up an empty word document. Staring at the empty page, he drummed his fingers on the keyboard.

Hesitantly, Blaine started typing:

_The boy looked out the window, wondering what to do._

He read the sentence to himself before hastily hitting the delete button, getting rid of all of it. It was stupid sentence. So ridiculously stupid. Was he really running so low on ideas that he was now journaling his sad, pathetic life?

Blaine took a sip of coffee, nearly burning his tongue in the process. He allowed himself to look out the window and see what was going on, which wasn't much. He could only see two people milling around: a woman walking her dog and a jogger.

In the distance, Blaine could see a figure walking in his direction. It appeared to be a woman wearing all black, which was highly unusual for a town like this. Blaine peered into the window, trying to see if he knew her. If he had seen someone like that, he would surely remember. He thought he heard Rachel mention something about a couple moving in nearby. Maybe this was her?

The woman came closer, but she gazed mostly at the ground as if wanting to avoid everyone. She seemed to feel weight of Blaine's gaze, however, and glanced up at him.

Blaine involuntarily let out a loud gasp, feeling his mouth freeze into an "O" of shock and his body go rigid. He knew those eyes.


	2. The Waiting

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

_Fuck_.

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

Kurt felt himself be immobilized by shock. His mind was scrambling for something, _anything_, to do but it was like his brain was malfunctioning. He just couldn't come up with a plan.

So Kurt did the first thing he could think of. He ran.

Kurt turned on his heels and sprinted away from the Lima Bean as fast as he could, everything a blur. He didn't care where he was going. He just needed to leave. Right. Now.

It was only after he started running that his mind cleared and he was able to think. First off- that guy definitely recognized him. Kurt had no idea how- he _knew _he had done a great job of disguising himself as a girl. As of now, he was wearing a dress. And makeup. And nail polish. And a wig. For God's sake, he was even wearing _heels_. Yes, they were the sensible kind- only 3 inches high. But still. He was unrecognizable.

After a while, Kurt's legs burned and he was gasping for air. He mentally cursed the heels, knowing he would have gotten so much further without them. Kurt leaned against a street pole, panting. He looked around and saw that he didn't recognize where he was anymore. Even while wearing questionable footwear, he had gone quite a long way.

What are you doing, Hummel?, he asked himself. This was stupid. _He _was stupid. He was a nationally-known serial killer. People everywhere feared him. Pretty much all of Lima cowered in their homes because of him. Why was he running away now?

Besides, that guy who saw him didn't look even remotely dangerous. Kurt only got a glance of him, but he was pretty sure the man was wearing a fucking _bow tie_.

Nevertheless, that guy definitely saw him. And somehow recognized him.

Kurt sighed. How could he be such an idiot? It was horribly risky to go outside in broad daylight, even dressed as a girl. It was all because of his stupid coffee addiction. Kurt made a mental note to buy a coffee machine. Or at least steal one.

Kurt smoothed out his dress. It still felt strangely foreign to wear it, but he figured he'd just have to get used to it. It was a small price to pay.

Kurt turned around and walked briskly back to the Lima Bean. There was no way he was going to let some asshole ruin everything he'd worked so hard for. Not this time.

It was time to do some damage control.

* * *

Blaine

Blaine attempted to get back to writing, but it was impossible. Unless he was daydreaming, he had just seen the killer. Right there. On the sidewalk. In plain sight. Dressed as a girl.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he was just imagining things. After all, he had only seen his eyes. It wasn't like those eyes were patented. It was probably just him being a pathetic lonely writer. He was so desperate for inspiration that he was now imagining things. Before he knew it, Blaine was probably going to end up in the loony bin.

She was probably just a perfectly ordinary person who'd been walking down the street. She had seen Blaine gasp at her and got weirded out. So she ran away. A perfectly normal thing to do in her situation. Blaine couldn't really blame her.

Blaine turned his attention back to his laptop, trying to ignore his rapid heartbeat. It was only the coffee. Nothing more.

* * *

After a while of writing and drinking coffee (but mostly drinking coffee), Blaine decided it was time to head home. He had been pretty productive (three pages of a new short story done) and now he was needed to go cook dinner.

Blaine got in his car and started driving home. Even though the streets were mostly empty, he had this eerie feeling he was being watched. Blaine felt his whole body involuntarily shiver, even as he tried to stay calm. Deep breath, he told himself. Deep breath.

Blaine took his own advice and took a long breath. He glanced at the rear view mirror, but he still couldn't see anyone behind him. It didn't reassure him- Blaine still felt his skin crawl. Maybe they were lurking in the shadows. Or they were invisible. Or something.

Eventually, Blaine arrived home. He quickly scanned the surrounding, empty area before sprinting to the door. Blaine opened the door as fast as he could and locked it immediately. Then, Blaine did a quick sweep of all the rooms in the house. They were all empty; Blaine said a silent thank you to the heavens.

He went back into the kitchen to cook dinner. It was time to stop being such a paranoid idiot. That girl he spotted earlier was just some random person who had green eyes. It was true that not that many people had green eyes (Google claimed only 2% of the world's population did), but it was still a common eye color. His 10th grade English teacher had green eyes. The cashier at the local deli had green eyes.

Blaine was blanking on more people, but still. It was a relatively common trait.

He took another deep breath. Stop worrying, Blaine told himself. He hadn't seen the killer. There was no one else in the house. The door was locked. He was safe.

On that note, Blaine decided to make pasta. He had found some bow-tie pasta the last time he went to the supermarket and he was dying to use it. He filled a big pot with water and a dash of salt. Blaine put it on the stove and turned up the heat to max. While waiting for the pasta to boil, he put on a classical music radio and sat down at the table to continue writing. He was still struggling, but he forced himself to trudge onwards. Blaine had a feeling that everything he'd written so far was utter crap, but he could always edit it later. Right now, he just needed to get the words on the page.

After a bit, he heard the water boiling. Blaine got up and dumped the entire box of pasta in. It was far too much for just him and Rachel, but he could always use leftovers. To go with it, he poured some store-bought pasta sauce in a pan and turned up the heat on it.

Blaine stirred the pasta idly, trying to think of an ingredient he could add. Currently, it was a displeasingly plain meal. He decided he would add some frozen meatballs to make it more filling and some dried oregano for added flavor. He grabbed the bag of meatballs out of the freezer and dumped them on a baking sheet before throwing them into the oven. Next, Blaine looked for the oregano. He couldn't find it, even though it should have been in the kitchen. It had to be in the cabinet. He went to go get it, which was unfortunately all the way on the other side of the house. He managed to find it though, and made his way back into the kitchen.

Blaine was just walking in when he was suddenly slammed into the wall. He felt his back hunched over as he recoiled from the blow. He collapsed on the ground.

At his eye level were a pair of red heels. Blaine looked up and saw her towering over him.

It was the girl from before. Now that Blaine could see her clearly, he could see she was actually quite pretty. She had long auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin was pale and seemingly flawless. Her eyes were an amazing shade of light green. Her lips were a deep, rich red.

Her hand, however, wasn't so pretty. Her right arm was against her side, and in her hand she clutched a gun. She lifted it so the muzzle was aimed at Blaine. A red nail-polished finger wrapped around the trigger.

She smiled at him.

"Hello, Blaine."


End file.
